Game On
by maraudler
Summary: Oneshot - Just Fred and George being Fred and George.


'GEORGE WEASLEY!' Mrs Weasley bellowed from the bottom of the staircase. Two floors above, Ron and Harry had been idly passing the time waiting for lunch by competing in a game of chess. The sudden scream of his mother's voice had sent Ron toppling of the bed, along with his chess pieces.

'Victory!' Harry shouted in a whisper as he moved his own pieces into checkmate, trying to muffle the sound of his laughter as the very familiar thuds of Mrs Weasley's feet stormed up the stairs.

Ron lifted himself back onto the bed, slightly flustered, as he turned to listen carefully for what on earth his brothers had done. It turned out, he needn't have.

'FRED! GEORGE! WHY IN THE BLOODY NAME OF MERLIN IS THERE SNOW BLOCKING THE ENTIRE HOUSE?'

Harry and Ron looked at each other for a split second before scrambling to the tiny window on the other side of the room. Sure enough, less than five feet below was a sheet of white snow stretching across the garden, glittering in the blaring heat of the sun. Delicate snowflakes were still drifting downwards and Ron turned to look up. He let out a loud laugh.

'Those idiots.' He chuckled as he watched the moving collection of clouds spill dozens of snowflakes onto their heads.

'Genius!' Harry said happily. 'How did they eve–'

But he was cut short by the screech of Mrs Weasley's voice.

'I KNOW FULL WELL IT WAS THE BOTH OF YOU. IS THIS TAKING A LEAF OUT OF YOUR BROTHERS' BOOK? WHAT ON EARTH POSSESSED YOU BOYS TO-TO CREATE A SNOWSTORM IN THE MIDDLE OF SUMMER?'

Fred's voice, thanks to the thin floors of the burrow, was easily audible from Ron and Harry's position.

'Mum, it's hardly a snowstorm; we were just having a little fun –'

'A little fun?' Her voice had reduced in volume somewhat but it still held the menace that, Ron thought, was frightening enough to reckon with Snape. 'YOU ARE FOURTEEN! UNDERAGE MAGIC IS ILLEGAL, FRED. AND WHAT'S WORSE, what's worse is that I can't get rid of this bloody blizzard!' Her voice faltered with fury and Ron, from years of getting caught in his mother's wrath, knew only too well the trouble his brothers would be in. He looked at Harry with a mixture of amusement and, quite frankly, worry.

'Wha-? You can't get rid of it?' George startled, with the lack of his usual boisterous attitude. Ron and Harry had now taken to sitting on the window sill, catching the floating snowflakes whilst continuing to listen to the conversation from upstairs. To be fair, it was really rather hard to miss.

'NO I BLOODY WELL CAN'T GET RID OF IT. I CAN'T GET OUT OF THE HOUSE. YOUR FATHER WILL HAVE TO APPARATE THROUGH TEN FEET OF SNOW. MERLIN'S BEARD GEORGE THIS IS INEXCUSABLE. YOU TWO HAVE CROSSED THE LINE THIS TIME. FIRST THE CAR, MIGHT I ADD ONLY THREE DAYS AGO, AND NOW THIS?'

'Mum, we're sorry. We'll fix this, c'mon Geor–'

'You won't be fixing anything! You're to use absolutely no more magic until you are out of my sight and back at Hogwarts, do you understand me?'

There was a murmur of agreement and the creak of bedsprings.

'I'm taking away all of your ridiculous Zonkos tricks and there will be no more Quidditch, or brooms, for the res-'

'MUM! You can't do that! We need to practise! Harry needs us to practise with him!'

Ron smirked; of course George would bring Harry into this. He could almost hear the sharpness in his mother's expression reduce at the sound of Harry's name. However, this didn't change the rising volume in her voice above her sons.

'for the rest of the holiday. I don't care if you need to practise! This is punishment, George and whether you like it or not, there will be absolutely no more flying in this household. I'm afraid Harry will just have to do without. Your father will be hearing about this.'

There was a loud sigh and the shuffling of feet. With a loud slam and footsteps pounding lightly down the stairs, Ron was fairly certain that his mother had disappeared back into the kitchen, sure to be leafing through spell books for any useful incantations. He pulled his numb hands back inside and, feeling the heat rise in his ears, turned to Harry.

'Uh… sorry about that. She gets a bit mental sometimes.' He shoved his hands in his pocket and leapt down from the small space by the window, collapsing onto his bed.

'Nah, it's alright. Much more fun than the Dursley's screaming in my face.'

Ron looked a little more relaxed and laughed. A moment of silence passed.

'Up for a snowball fight then?'

Harry grinned. 'In the middle of summer? Who could say no?' He swung his legs round to face outside and stared at the blanket of glistening snow beneath him. 'Alright, I'm jumping out.' He pushed himself up and bowed his head, ready to leap. 'Ok… one… two..- AAGHHH!'

Thump.

Ron was sure his laughter could be heard through the entire house as he looked down at the form of his best mate lying flat on the snow. 'AHAHA HARRY. YOU ALRIGHT?' He shouted. 'LOOK A BIT CHILLY DOWN THERE, MATE.'

'I hate you,' came Harry's muffled reply as he pushed himself to sit up. Snow covered his body and the white contrasted shockingly with his jet black hair. His glasses were a state.

Ron leapt down slightly more gracefully, though stumbling a little as he landed.

'Merlin's beard it's cold.' He stood wearing a t-shirt and shorts in the pile of snow as heavier flakes fell upon the two boys.

'You're telling me.' Harry replied, pushing himself up and brushing his clothes dry. Ron grabbed a handful of snow and grinned up at his friend.

'Reckon Fred and George will play?'

Harry's eyes sparkled with delight.

'Game on.'


End file.
